


Devils and Black Sheep

by jachiavellian



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Crossdressing, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jachiavellian/pseuds/jachiavellian
Summary: Jacqueline Naylor is an orphan and the mistress to a wealthy Lord, and has never known what it's like to be truly free. That is, until Bernie Wolfe and the crew of The Wyvern come crashing into the scene and she is transported to a life of piracy on the High Seas. (AKA the Holby Pirate AU nobody asked for. Featuring badass bisexual Jac, awesome (crossdressing) lesbian pirates, Sacha's cooking and a healthy dose of 18th century surgery.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had in my mind for a while. It's going to be fairly faced paced and I'll play around with a few ships (namely Flac, JacXFrieda, Berena and Dofty) but the main focus will be on Jac. I'm not an expert on pirates so take pretty much all of it with a pinch of salt as far as historical accuracy is concerned - it's just a bit of fun in an attempt to reimagine our favourite characters as 18th century nautical criminals. Hope you enjoy!

“Miss Naylor?”

A sharp rapping at her cabin door made Jac scowl, and she looked up from the diary entry she was in the process of writing, resting her arm on the desk to shield it from view.

“Come in,” she called.

A young boy she didn’t recognise but took to be one of Lord Byrne’s servants peered tentatively into the room, gaze flitting around quickly before it came to rest on her.

“You’re wanted up on deck,” he almost squeaked. “Lord Byrne says there’s been a dolphin sighting and he’d like you to see them.”

Jac forced a dutiful smile onto her face. “Thank you. Tell Charles I’ll be up in just a minute.”

The boy nodded and scurried away and she let the façade drop away, letting out a frustrated huff and storing the parchment and quill in her chest before rising to her feet. She had thought that by accompanying Lord Byrne on his trip to the colonies she might be introduced to the vast political sphere in which he operated, a motivation which truthfully had inspired her pursuit of a relationship with him in the first place. And yet the old fool had consistently kept her in the dark so far, encouraging the more senior shipmates to keep her occupied with mundane recollections of former voyages whilst he was in important meetings, and engaging with her personally only in his cabin at night, or to request her company for birdwatching or something equally dull.

Still, she mused, adjusting her corset in a way that would emphasise her cleavage and reaching to grab her fan from the desk, her position as Charles’ mistress had some benefits; the man was filthy rich and a dominant political figure, and it had raised her status from that of a poor orphaned serving girl to that of a woman who could almost be of high standing in society, were it not for the stigma that she bore for her role. And whilst Lord Byrne was thirty seven years her senior, years of marriage and a number of extramarital affairs meant that he certainly knew how to please a woman. To put it simply, the sex was okay.

She made her way up the wooden stairs, holding her skirts aloft delicately until the man in question came into view; he was standing on the deck and staring out at the rolling waves, the very picture of dignity against the flushed afternoon sky. Jac smirked as she drew near to him, her hand dancing lightly across the thin fabric covering his back.

“You wanted me,” she spoke softly, holding back a satisfied smile as her fingers reached the waistband of his trousers and he swallowed.

“Ah, Jacqueline, yes,” he smiled, casting a self-conscious look around them to make sure they were unobserved. The crew averted their eyes in silent acknowledgement of his embarrassment. “There’s a group of dolphins travelling alongside the ship and I thought you might like to see them.”

Jac smiled, turning to cast her eyes over the sea. Sure enough, their sleek grey bodies were rising above the waves intermittently before disappearing again, and she gripped the side of the boat in a feigned expression of excitement. “Oh, how wonderful. Thank you for calling for me, Charles.”

“It’s not a problem, my dear,” he chuckled, resting a hand over one of hers and stroking her skin idly with his thumb. They stood like that for a minute or so, Jac watching the movement of the dolphins whilst Lord Byrne studied her with all the intensity of a starved animal looking at its prey. His need for her was amusing, really. It provided her with an intoxicating level of control which she was all too happy to take advantage of, and so she was prepared for his next request when it came.

“I was hoping you might join me tonight for supper. In my quarters.”

“If that’s what you desire,” she said simply, rising her gaze to meet his. His own expression darkened with lust.

“It is. Very much so.”

“Then I shall see you tonight,” came the sweet reply. Then, glancing around as if to make sure no one was looking, she raised up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Lord Byrne made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and Jac saw a dozen pairs of eyes widen behind them at such an open display of affection. She drew back, offering him a well-practised smile before turning on her heels and making her way back downstairs to finish writing for the day.

The sun had gone down by the time she exited her cabin again, leaving her with only the half-shadowed silver of the moon to guide her path across the deck of the ship. The air was still. Chilly. Jac shivered and tugged her robe tighter around her small frame, the silky material caressing her bare forearms at the slight movement and causing the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Only the sound of waves licking at the hull disturbed the stillness of the night.

She walked without shame, allowing the heavy heels of her shoes to make as much noise as she liked as she approached the other end of the ship; it had been a long time since she’d felt embarrassed about the nature of her relationship with Lord Byrne, and why should she hide her face when, unlike him, she’d made no promises of loyalty before God? She had stopped feeling sorry for his wife too for that matter; the poor woman probably deserved better anyway, and at least he continued to provide for her financially. Jac’s financial position was precarious to say the least, and entirely dependent upon her continued favour with him.

Lord Byrne opened the door to his quarters before she’d even had the chance to knock. She watched, expression impassive as his gaze wandered down her body, lingering at the curves her robe clung to.

“Are you cold?” he asked, reaching to grip her bare wrist.

“No,” she replied, and stepped closer to him. The door fell shut behind her.

“Good.” He tugged her backwards in the direction of the richly-decorated bed, eyes drinking the sight of her in. Jac raised an eyebrow as he sank down on the edge of the mattress.

“I was promised supper,” she joked lightly. Byrne grinned, shrugging off his jacket.

“I lied.”

Jac pursed her lips in amusement and pushed the robe gently from her shoulders, letting it sink to the floor and leaving her standing in just her nightgown. It was a translucent wisp of material, finely made and purchased with his money of course, and did little to disguise her body underneath. The effect it had on the man before her was visible.

“Christ, woman,” he muttered, reaching out to stroke her through the thin fabric. She made a soft noise in her throat, aware that the sound would go straight to his groin, and arched slightly into his touch. Sure enough he growled impatiently and tugged her down for a deep kiss, which she reciprocated eagerly enough. Just as she was reaching for the buttons of his shirt, however, the walls around them shook and there was a low crashing noise.

They both pulled apart and froze, Jac’s fingers quivering at his chest and his own hands tightening cautiously around her waist. A moment passed, and then the first shouts could be heard.

“What in God’s name-“ Byrne began, but was cut off as the door flew open to reveal one of the crew members. Jac raised her eyebrows, staring dispassionately at the intruder as he glanced between them in fear.

“S-sir, we’ve been hit. They’re flying a black flag.”

“Shit.” Byrne pushed Jac back so that he could stand, striding across the cabin to grab his flintlock from the desk. She coolly retrieved her robe from the floor.

“Is it pirates?” she asked. The man at the door nodded, looking desperately at anything but her as she wrapped it around herself again.

“Most likely, miss.”

Byrne stared cautiously at the new arrival, before crossing to take Jac’s hand and press a kiss to the back of it. “You stay here,” he commanded her on his way out. “They won’t be honourable men and you won’t be safe around them.”

As the door shut behind the two men, Jac reflected sardonically on the irony of Lord Byrne calling anyone dishonourable. Her thoughts were cut short as the ship tilted, however, and the implications of the crewmate’s words finally sunk in.

“We’ve been hit,” she echoed. “Shit. _Shit._ ”

She glanced around the room wildly, gaze finally settling on a pair of decorative sabres hung on the wall, probably spoils of war from some past battle or other. Mind whirling, she approached them and hoisted one down from its place. A grunt of surprise escaped her throat at the heaviness of the weapon, but she gripped it by the hilt with both hands and gave it an experimental swing and deemed it better than rushing straight into a pirate attack with nothing.

As she reached the staircase leading up from Lord Byrne’s quarters the sound of gunshots and clashing swords from outside grew louder. Jac could smell the heavy scent of gunpowder, and even inside the lantern-lit air was clouded with smoke from the cannons. Heart drumming so hard she could feel it in her throat, she pushed open the door leading onto the deck.

And came face to face with another woman.

Jac was so surprised she almost forgot where she was; the woman was taller than her and pale, with dark hair twisted into intricate plaits that hung over each shoulder and fell to her waist. She had jet black kohl ringing each eye and a long gold-embroidered black robe to rival Jac’s own fine garments. The woman’s gaze dropped then to the sabre she held, and her small mouth twisted into a smile.

“You are holding it wrong.” It took Jac a moment to work out what she was saying; her accent wasn’t one she had heard before but sounded vaguely Eastern European.

“What?”

“Your sword. You are holding it with two hands but it’s a one-handed grip.” She raised her own hands, and sure enough she was clutching a curved blade in each. The cruel metal winked at Jac, silvery in the moonlight, and she swallowed.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, voice surprisingly steady despite the situation. The woman raised her eyebrows.

“No. But we will probably capture the more competent members of your crew and take all of your gold. It would be better for you if you did not resist.”

Jac nodded stiffly, and the other woman moved to push past her into the space below deck. “Wait,” she said suddenly, causing her to turn and raise a fine eyebrow. “Why are you doing this?”

Her question was met with a shrug. “Stealing things makes me happy.”

“But you’re a woman,” Jac protested. She had thought the world of piracy was closed off to the fairer sex, being an option for only the most vulgar and morally loose men. Her new acquaintance seemed to find this amusing, and her face contorted into another carefully-controlled smile.

“I am respected far more at sea than I ever was back in my home country,” she said, before adding pointedly: “Women are not just wives or mistresses out here. Everyone is entitled to their own fair share of gold.” And, raking her gaze over Jac’s body for a final time, she offered one last appraising look before disappearing below deck. Jac stood for a moment, a pensive frown on her face as she considered everything the strange woman had said. It had gone against everything she had heard about the lifestyle of pirates. And the woman herself – she had seemed clean, composed, not at all like the grimy illustrations of bearded men with cutlasses in newspapers and journals. More than that, she had seemed _free_. The very thought of it made Jac’s chest ache.

She was jerked from her thoughts by the sound of a single, loud gunshot breaking across the soundscape of the battle.

Jac stepped onto the deck, every instinct screaming at her to run back down to Byrne’s cabin and shut herself in until the danger had passed. It was dark, but as her eyes adjusted she noticed that the movements of the battle had stilled, and the sound had died down. She followed the eyelines of the men nearby and watched as a white-shirted figure, illuminated by the pale light of the moon, fell to the floor, a vibrant red blossoming through the fabric. She caught her breath and moved blindly forwards as he turned his face slightly and she realised who it was.

The crewmates nearest to her turned from their opponents, watching her as she made her way slowly across the deck to where Charles Byrne lay dying in a pool of his own blood. The pirates hung back uncertainly, eyes flitting to where an ornately dressed man Jac took to be the captain was standing, a smoking pistol sat in his grasp. He was silhouetted against a backdrop of flames; the boat was on fire. Jac reached Byrne’s body and crouched beside him. His glassy eyes met hers, dancing with the reflection of the flames, and the realisation that he was about to die in front of her instilled her with a sense of panic.

“Charles,” she whispered, tugging urgently at his shirt. “Charles, listen to me-“

He shook his head, fumbling about to try and grab her hand. “Jacqueline… I-“

“Charles, please, this is important-”

“I love you.”

“Did you write me into your will?” She rushed the question out before his previous words had time to sink in, and then watched as his expression slackened in shock. For a moment, he just stared at her, then shook his head. Jac clenched her fists and let out a cry of frustration.

“Damn you!” She spat at him, before turning her face up to the pirates’ Captain. “He wasn’t supposed to die like this. I was supposed to have more time.”

“That is of no interest to us,” came the indifferent reply. The Captain’s voice surprised Jac – it was deep and rich, and his words were finely polished as if he had spent some time in high society. He raised his chin so that Lord Byrne’s crew could see his clean-shaven face beneath his sweeping hat as he addressed them. “Who among you is the ship surgeon?”

Jac pursed her lips whilst she composed herself, before getting to her feet and facing him directly. “You just killed him.”

There were murmurs of unease amongst the pirates at that, and the Captain looked visibly perturbed for just a moment. He recovered quickly, however, and directed his next words to her. “There must be another on board who has studied medicine. Bring him to me.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then she spoke again. “That would be me.”

The Captain furrowed his brow. “You’re a woman.”

“Yes, and I have been Lord Byrne’s companion for just over a year now. His collection of medical journals is- was extensive, and I had unlimited access to all of them.”

“Books are all well and good, but could you lob a man’s leg off? We deal in amputations out here, not with dainty poultices.”

Jac narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll see.” There was a ripple of murmured amusement at her words – even the Captain’s lips quirked upwards a little – and she felt a surge of courage at the consensus of approval. “Why do you ask?”

“We have found ourselves in need of a surgeon,” he responded, demeanour slipping into one of indifference again. “Now if you were a man we wouldn’t hesitate to force you into our service, however our code prohibits the seizing of a woman without her consent.”

“How civil,” Jac snorted. “So you want me to be your surgeon?”

The Captain just dipped his head in affirmation. Jac narrowed her eyes. This man had just robbed her of both her fortune and her social standing, and he wanted her to work for him? Her eyes flitted anxiously to the flames on the other end of the boat. Byrne’s men would have to start evacuating soon, or she was going to go down with them in it. If she stayed, she could die, and then once she got back to England she’d be destitute. It was hardly a difficult choice.

“Very well,” she said at last, and she watched as Lord Byrne’s men shifted uneasily around her, no doubt disturbed by her willingness to collude with her lover’s murderer. God forbid a woman had her own mind. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“When you come to search this ship for its treasures, I get whatever you find that belongs to Byrne.” She lifted her chin proudly. “I feel I am owed it, since you robbed me of the ability to capitalise upon his death in a way that was within common law.”

He let out a startlingly good-natured bark of laughter, which was quickly echoed by the rest of his crew. “I can hardly argue with that. You’re a pirate by nature, Miss…”

“Naylor,” she supplied. Then, thinking of the way Byrne had uttered Jacqueline in his throaty voice, she added “Jac Naylor. And might I know the name of my employer?”

 The Captain dipped his head, the brim of his hat not quite concealing the subtle upwards-curve of his lips. “Of course. I’m Bernie Wolfe, Captain of The Wyvern. Welcome aboard, Miss Naylor.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: nobody in this chapter is straight (unless you count Lord Byrne's corpse)

It took roughly half an hour for the pirates to completely dissect Lord Byrne’s vessel, hauling the expensive contents across onto The Wyvern whilst Jac packed up her belongings below deck. By the time she emerged the crew had fled on the small escape boats and the pirates were congregating on the deck with various smaller items of food and treasure, which they were packing into barrels. The fires had been put out, although by the way the ship was moving Jac doubted it would ever make it back to dry land in one piece. She paused, surveying the scene briefly before crossing over to where Byrne’s body lay and retrieving his flintlock from the floor beside him. The pirates had removed his jacket and he looked strangely vulnerable in the darkness. Her eyes roamed over his face and a part of her waited for the guilt to hit her, but it didn’t. Perhaps Bernie was right and she was just a natural pirate.

“Are you ready?” A familiar accented voice spoke from behind her and she smiled, tucking the firearm into the sash at her waist before turning to look at the woman she had encountered during the battle. She looked harsher in the absence of lanternlight, more pirate-like, with the silver moon casting sweeping black shadows beneath her brows and cheekbones.

“Yes,” Jac said firmly.

The woman nodded, turning on her heel and heading towards the gangway the pirates had set up. Her long plaits swayed behind her as she walked, and Jac hurried to catch up.

“I didn’t get your name,” she prompted.

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you,” came the monotonous reply, although a glance at her companion’s face told Jac that she intended the quip good-naturedly. “Frieda Petrenko.”

“How did you end up here?”

“Same as you,” she shrugged. “My boat was raided and I chose to join Captain Wolfe.”

They drew to a halt as they reached the gangway, and a man held out his hand to help Jac up onto it. She accepted, anxious about stumbling and making a fool of herself in front of her new crewmates, and hopped lightly onto the pirates’ ship once she reached the other end of the plank. A soft breath of relief escaped her lips, and she turned her attention to the crowd that had gathered on the deck.

There were many of them – a great many more than she had noticed during the struggle to seize Lord Byrne’s ship – and each was looking at her with open curiosity. She couldn’t help but feel relieved when Frieda stepped down beside her and touched her back lightly, guiding her towards one end of the ship where a small group of woman were standing together in the warm glow of lanternlight. The woman nearest looked to be in her mid-thirties and was wearing a brilliant crimson dress in a style Jac recognised from her time with Byrne in London. Sure enough, when she spoke it was in the accent of the upper classes.

“Petrenko. I hear the capture was a success. And who’s this?” She cast her brown gaze upon Jac.

“Jac Naylor,” she introduced herself before Frieda could speak. “Your Captain has employed me as the new surgeon.”

“Oh good,” the woman said, raising an eyebrow as she studied the redhead carefully. “It’s about time we got a new one.”

Jac was about to ask what had happened to the last one, but was interrupted by a joyous cry from behind her.

“Serena!” It was Bernie; he’d made his way across the gangway and was sharing the weight of a large barrel with another crewmember. Once they’d managed to put it down on the deck, he hurried towards them, eyes focused only on the woman in the red dress.

Then, to Jac’s shock, the Captain swept off his hat, revealing an elaborately braided web of blonde hair beneath and a visage that, having been previously half-concealed, was actually strikingly feminine. Frieda grinned, watching her reaction as it dawned upon her exactly what was going on.

“Bernie is…”

“It’s short for Berenice,” came the amused reply. “She knows she’ll only be taken seriously on enemy boats if they think she’s a man. Here, on the other hand…” She trailed off as Bernie embraced Serena passionately, their lips meeting in a kiss as if the action were as natural as breathing to them. Jac had only ever seen such intimacy between two women in crude and indecent illustrations meant for men, but as Serena pulled back with a contented smile on her face, her hands lingering at Bernie’s waist, she realised that it made sense. Why should romantic relationships be reserved for one man and one woman? Especially when, at least in the world she knew, the male partner would always be socially superior to the female.

“I missed you,” Bernie’s voice cut through her musings, and Jac focused her attention on the Captain and the woman she had just embraced. She drew back a little, hands still resting possessively at Serena’s waist. “I see you’ve met our new surgeon. Jac, this is Serena Campbell, my wife and the Quartermaster of this ship.”

“I’m in charge of discipline,” Serena said pointedly, a devious smile curving her lips.

Jac frowned; the woman’s surname had called some indistinct memory to her mind. It struck her then, and the image of a middle-aged balding man entered her head; he had been a friend of Lord Byrne’s and attended some of the events she’d been to as his mistress. “Are you related to-“

Serena cut her off. “I’m afraid if you say the E-word on this boat I’ll have to have you thrown off, which would be a shame since you’ve only just arrived. But to answer your question, yes, he was my husband. I ran away once I discovered he’d been screwing half of Bristol behind my back. That’s when I met Bernie.”

She wasn’t sure how to reply to that but was saved by a quick interjection from Bernie.

“You’ll want to unpack, I’m sure. Where’s Lofty?”

Her question was followed by a crashing sound as a barrel toppled over on the deck and a curly-haired boy who could only have been eighteen or nineteen cursed from beside it, scrabbling to stand it upright again. “Here, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”

A look halfway between amusement and exasperation crossed Bernie’s face and she sighed. “Show Miss Naylor to the surgeon’s quarters and help her with her chest. If you could manage that without killing anyone, that would be great.”

The boy’s face flooded with colour and he stuttered another apology before hurrying across to where the chest lay. Jac took one side and he lifted the other with surprising ease for a person of his stature, but then she supposed that living on board a pirate ship came with a fairly unique set of physical requirements. She paused, noticing that the boy was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for direction.

“Well?” She said, raising her eyebrows. “You’re going to have to lead the way. I don’t know where the surgeon’s quarters are.”

Lofty blushed again and nodded, dark curls bouncing at the simple movement. He mumbled something indistinct and tugged in the direction of the nearest door to them, giving Jac no choice but to follow his lead. Together, they managed to manoeuvre the heavy chest along the corridor leading to her new home, finally depositing it on the floor of the first room they came to. It was spacious and lit softly by rushlights in glass cases, with a large workspace and a wooden operating table, as well as two hammocks which Jac supposed to be for any patients she might have to treat.

“You, uh, you’ll be sharing the space with the ship’s carpenter,” Lofty said anxiously, fumbling with his hands and looking almost like he’d rather be anywhere else than alone in the room with her. It made a refreshing change to being alone in a room with Lord Byrne, Jac thought wryly as she observed him from where she had wandered to examine the table. “The workbench and the tools in that cupboard are his, and you’ll be able to borrow them for amputations and stuff.”

“Where is he?” Jac questioned, crossing over to the cupboard and glancing inside at the array of metal saws and pliers. Lofty just shrugged.

“Probably inspecting any damage from the raid. We take a lot of damage so he’s a busy man.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, picking out a saw and running her finger lightly along the tip of the blade. “And how often will my services be required? Do people get hurt often?”

“We’re pirates,” he said by way of reply, an uncomfortable smile curving his lips. “It’s an occupational hazard. This raid was fairly easy though – once that Lord got shot everyone else just ran away.”

Jac smirked, placing the saw back in its place and pulling out a knife to inspect it in a similar way. “Lord Byrne was weak. He commanded no respect and so he got none. It’s as simple as that.”

Lofty was silent at that, and after a moment she returned the tool to the cupboard, lost in thought. He fidgeted nervously before plucking up the courage to speak again.

“Um… I should leave you to unpack. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow at your initiation.”

She paused. “My what?”

“Your initiation.” He winced. “Nobody’s told you?”

“I’ve been here all of five minutes,” she protested.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing to worry about, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Lofty gave her a sheepish look. “Well, I hope you can hold your alcohol.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Jac alone to mull over his words whilst she unpacked. She had heard stories about pirates’ drinking habits, and had always been warned away from the ports because of the renowned rowdiness of sailors. Even during the brief weeks she had been accompanying Lord Byrne she had seen her fair share of drunken antics, although she had tended to look upon such behaviour with scorn. She had seldom had more than a glass of wine herself.

Jac turned to look properly around the room, coming to focus on a door which she could only assume led to her cabin. Mind occupied with newfound apprehension for whatever the crew had in store for her tomorrow, she went to open it. The room behind it was small and dimly lit, containing only a single bed and a table; hardly the luxury she had become accustomed to, but it would do. Besides, it came with her freedom, and the ability to practise medicine which had always fascinated her since she was a young girl. Byrne’s book collection, and his own involvement with medicine, had gone some way to satiate her desire to learn, but as a woman it was a profession she had expected to be barred from for life. Bernie’s offer had then been her big chance, and she had taken it without a second thought.

She smiled to herself, crossing back into the main room where her chest lay and heaving open the lid so that she could access the contents. Sharp’s _Treatise on the Operations of Surgery_ had pride of place right at the top of the piled belongings, and she took it out carefully to run her hand over the cover of the heavy book. Of all the worldly possessions belonging to Lord Byrne that had been found during the raid on his ship, this was the one she prized the most. She had managed to cover two or three chapters since leaving England, hindered slightly by her less than perfect comprehension; she had only learnt to read in recent years, after all. Over the next few days she hoped to read a lot more.

Satisfied, and comforted by the flickering of the lantern against the shadowed walls and the soft sideways movements of the boat, she made her way back into the cabin with the book held to her chest like a newborn. It took her only a minute or so to climb out of her clothing down to her shift, discarding it at the foot of the bed as she slipped under the blanket and, sitting up against the headboard, began to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this episode of Devils and Black Sheep: Jac has a rude awakening followed by a sexual awakening.

Jac was awoken the next morning by a heavy thud and the sound of muffled cursing from next door. She frowned, rubbing at the inner corners of her eyes to clear her vision, and realised that the medical book was still lying next to her on the bed. She must have fallen asleep reading it.

The sound of footsteps commenced outside her door, and she groaned as whoever it was knocked three times against the panels.

“Just a minute,” she called, fumbling for the robe she had discarded at the foot of her bed last night and quickly slipping it on before going barefoot to answer the door.

A tall and stout man with slightly-greying hair was stood behind it, a plate of biscuits in his hand. As her gaze travelled up to meet his, he beamed.

“Sacha Levy. Cook.”

“Jac Naylor. Tired,” she responded grumpily, folding her arms.

He seemed unfazed by her brusqueness and held out the plate. “I thought you might be hungry so I brought you some biscuits.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said with a forced smile as she took the plate and began to close the door. “Goodbye.”

“Wait,” he yelped, and stuck his foot in the doorway to jam the door open. Jac glared at him. “I was hoping you could take a look at something for me.”

This got her attention, and she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Sacha fidgeted, and she realised that he was really quite nervous. “My tooth has been bothering me for a while, and since you’re the surgeon now, I just thought…”

“Take a seat in there,” she said, resigning herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get any more sleep. “I’ll have a look.”

He exhaled. “Great. That’s great. Thank you.”

Jac followed him through to the main room, where he sat down obediently and opened his mouth. She reached out to bend his face so that the light from the windows was directly upon him, and leant forwards to assess him.

“It’s the one near the back,” he attempted to say, sending his hot breath over Jac’s face and making her wince in disgust.

“I can see it. Breathe through your nose,” she commanded, focused on the tooth in question, which was almost entirely black. It was rotten; there was no doubt about it. “Yep, that’s going to have to come out.”

“Now?” He asked in alarm, turning to look at her with wide, panicked eyes. She straightened up, hands coming to rest on her hips.

“No. I’m going to read up on tooth extraction first. Come back tomorrow.”

“You mean you’ve never done this before?” He got to his feet in alarm.

“That’s right,” she said sweetly. “Maybe have a couple of drinks first.” And with that, she swept back into her room to get changed properly, leaving him to mull over her words alone.

Jac spent the rest of the morning poring over Sharp’s Treatise at her desk, folding over the corners of pages when she didn’t quite understand something as a reminder to come back to it later. She remained undisturbed until noon, when a man about her age with dark facial hair strode into the room carrying a large plank of wood. He barely acknowledged her upon entrance, placing the plank down so it rested against the wall. Only after he had straightened up did he turn and let his gaze flicker over her. Jac observed him nonchalantly.

“You’re using my desk,” he said bluntly. She bristled at his tone.

“And you are?”

“Adrian Fletcher.” He frowned, and then repeated his earlier statement. “You’re using my desk.”

“You’re the carpenter then. That’s funny. I was under the impression that we were supposed to be sharing this space.”

He glared at her before adopting a patronising tone to address her again. “Well, you’ve had a go with it now so it’s my turn.”

Jac gave him a sarcastic smile. “What are you going to do? Cut up a few bits of wood?”

Adrian stalked over to the desk, bracing his hands against it and meeting her defiant gaze. “You know on most ships I’d be doing your job.”

“Well,” she snorted, slamming her book shut and rising to her feet so that she was level with him. “Fortunately for all of us, this isn’t most ships. Don’t you have a boat to repair or something?”

He exhaled slowly as if to compose himself, but any reply he might have fired back was lost as the door swung open and the boy from yesterday – Lofty – stumbled in. He looked between the two of them with wide eyes before stuttering a vague greeting.

“Um, I’m sorry for interrupting but Captain Wolfe has just called a general assembly. You’re both wanted up on deck.”

“Is this for my initiation?” Jac asked calmly.

“I should imagine so, Miss.”

She nodded, picking up the book from the desk and turning back to the carpenter. “We’re not finished.” And, leaving him no time to reply, she returned the book to her room and marched outside.

The initiation itself was brief enough; the entire ship gathered to watch Jac sign a scrap of paper after Bernie had read aloud the code she would be expected to follow. A murmur of amusement had followed rule number six – no seizing of a member of the fairer sex without her express consent – and Jac had allowed a smirk to slip through her stoic exterior as she recalled the Captain reciting the very same words to her just twelve hours earlier. Following that, Bernie made a few comments about the various items they had found aboard Lord Byrne’s ship, including an estimated total cost for the lot once they returned to Europe. A cheer went up, before she spread her hand wide, giving the command to “start the celebrations”.

And, as Jac was about to find out, if there was one thing pirates knew how to do properly it was to celebrate.

Sacha distributed food to begin with, promising earnestly to Jac that it would ‘line her stomach’ and somehow lessen the effect of the copious amounts of alcohol she was about to consume, as was customary for a new crewmate. She had cast him a rueful smile at that, giving a small nod of thanks before turning to locate someone she was happy to talk to.

“And where do you think you’re going?” A familiar voice stopped her in her tracks as she located Frieda on the edge of the crowd and moved to join her. Jac turned, finding Serena standing there with a questioning look upon her face.

“I was just-“

“There’ll be time for chatting later. We’re not finished with you yet. In fact, we’re not even started.” She raised her voice to address the masses. “Would someone get Miss Naylor a drink?”

Jac opened her mouth to protest, but a girl with tightly curled black hair pressed a drink into her hands before she could speak. “Best not to argue,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “You’d better get used to enforced drinking.”

She huffed and took a sip from the cup, screwing up her face in disgust as the lukewarm liquid assaulted her senses. “What the hell is that?”

There was a chorus of laughter at her reaction, and Serena patted her shoulder. “You’ve just tasted the Caribbean’s finest rum. It’s all downhill from there, I’m afraid.”

“Just keep drinking, you’ll get used to it,” advised the girl who had passed her the drink. “I’m Nicky, by the way.”

Jac gave a nod of acknowledgement, then took a long swig from the cup, wiping her lips with the back of her hand when she was done and clenching her jaw in a vain attempt to keep her expression neutral. “Jac Naylor,” she said by way of response. Nicky laughed.

“I know. You’re quite the talking point, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Jac raised her eyebrows at that. “How so?”

“Well, The Wyvern doesn’t have much luck with surgeons. Our last guy, Ollie, got shot a few months ago. And then before him there was Elliot. He lost it, apparently. Just got up one night and rowed off in one of the escape boats. And he’d taken over from Linden, who was killed in a brawl with some other guy. And before him-“

“Yes, I get the picture,” Jac interrupted, and pressed her lips together whilst she processed this. “Is this a surgeon-specific phenomenon or do all pirates on this boat go mad or drop dead?”

Nicky paused. “Um. Well, that’s the thing. People die, of course, but surgeons seem to last less time than the rest of us. Everyone thinks the position’s cursed.” She saw Jac raise her eyebrows and continued quickly: “But everyone says that pirates are superstitious. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Brilliant.” Jac sighed and downed the rest of her drink. “Is there more where that came from?”

There was, as it happened, and by the time Nicky returned with another cup full of the strong liquid, Jac was feeling pleasantly floaty. All thoughts of surgeon-related curses pushed to the back of her mind, she sat down against the mast to take in her surroundings. Close by, Lofty had obtained some sort of string instrument and was plucking it rapidly and singing a vaguely familiar fast-paced shanty; perhaps she had heard the sailors on Byrne’s ship singing it, Jac mused, her gaze settling on a brunette moustached man opposite, who was casting the boy subtle glances whilst conversing with Bernie Wolfe. She moved her gaze along to where Adrian stood, drink in hand, talking to another man whose name Jac didn’t know, although she had heard him speak earlier and had picked up on his continental accent. Serena was nearby, and appeared to be deep in conversation with a slightly older man, attractive, with dark hair and skin. His stubble, and the lines beginning to form around his eyes and on his brow, gave him a somewhat rugged appearance, and Jac reflected that he was the most pirate-like person she had seen so far.

As Nicky excused herself and went to join two other young-looking crew members, Jac started through the crowd, scanning it for anyone who wouldn’t demand too much conversation from her. A voice stopper her in her tracks.

“Jac Naylor! Come here.” It was Sacha. Jac groaned as he stumbled over to her and wrapping her in a hug, a jovial flush staining his cheeks. A pretty blonde woman followed behind him, and Jac recognised her as one of the women that had been standing with Serena when she’d first boarded.

“Mr Levy,” she greeted him with a grimace as she detached herself a little clumsily from his embrace. “How’s the tooth?”

“Sacha,” the blonde woman chastised him. “She’s not even been here a day and you’ve already bothered her about that bloody tooth?” Despite her well put-together appearance, her accent differed from those Jac was used to from her time with Byrne; it was perhaps a little broader, and a few of her consonants elided into each other whilst others were omitted altogether.

“She’s going to take it out for me,” Sacha beamed. “Oh! Jac, this is Essie. She’s my…” he looked down at her with such affection that Jac felt a sudden non-alcohol-induced urge to be sick, before pressing his lips together in a resigned sort of way. “We’re good friends.”

Essie averted her eyes at his words, a delicate blush gracing her skin. “It’s nice to meet you properly,” she said, and Jac offered up a vague smile in response.

“How are you feeling?” Sacha asked then, and Jac shrugged by way of response. His warm eyes assessed her carefully. “You’re not holding up too badly for a woman of your size.”

“Watch it, Levy,” she warned with a frown, and Essie let out a peal of laughter.

“Just make sure you run for the side of the boat if you feel sick,” she advised, placing her hand on Sacha’s arm to quieten him. “And I’ll get Sacha to fix you up with a Levy-special in the morning.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Right. Well, that’s good. I want you on best form tomorrow for this operation.”

She held back a frustrated huff, anticipating another tirade about his tooth, but before she could open her mouth to make her excuses and get away there was a light brush of someone’s hand against the small of her back. Jac tensed up, until a familiarly accented voice spoke from just outside her peripheral.

“Sacha, would you mind if I borrowed Miss Naylor? I… have some questions to ask her. About my health.”

The large man frowned, bushy eyebrows lowering as he studied the newcomer. “Of course. It’s nothing serious, I hope?”

Frida shook her head, plaits swaying at the motion before she spoke, completely deadpan. “No. Just not something most men would want to hear about.”

Jac watched Essie bite the inside of her cheeks as she struggled to contain her laughter. Sacha had gone bright red.

“Oh. Right. Well, in that case I’d better leave you to it,” he managed to stammer, suddenly very interested in everything but Frieda. Jac smirked.

“Come on then,” she said. “Let’s find somewhere a bit quieter so you can tell me all about this… health problem.”

Frieda nodded, and they both turned, leaving Sacha and Essie alone again. As soon as they were out of earshot Frieda glanced across at Jac and raised an eyebrow. The redhead bit her lip, an uncharacteristic giggle threatening to burst from her.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered a few moments later.

“What, do I not get a thank you?” They had reached the far side of the boat, away from the crowd, and the rapid plucking of Lofty’s instrument was almost lost under the sound of the sea waves below them. Jac grinned, leaning back against the wooden railings at the edge of the deck and tilting her head back to let the slight night-time breeze cool her flushed face.

“Thank you, oh fearsome pirate lady. Truly you saved me from a dreadful fate.”

“Sacha isn’t that bad, you know?” Frieda said mildly, but her pale cheeks had taken on the slightest coloured tint at Jac’s words. “He’ll grow on you. I thought the same of him when I first came.”

“I’ll bear that in mind when I’m ripping his tooth out tomorrow.”

Frieda made a small, amused sound in her throat. “You’re not supposed to talk about work at a celebration.”

Jac lowered her head to raise her eyebrows at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that in the ridiculous code your captain made me sign?”

“Yes, it was right beneath the rule about not being sober at your own initiation,” she replied pointedly.

“I don’t like not being in control. Besides, people do stupid things when they’re drunk.”

An amused smile curved Frieda’s lips, and she took a step closer to Jac to answer in a low voice. “That’s kind of the whole point. Being in control is overrated anyway, Miss Naylor. How many drinks have you had?”

Jac frowned. “A few,” she said defensively.

“Well,” Frieda reached out and took her hand, an unspoken challenge in her eyes as she met the redhead’s gaze. “Let’s go and get you a few more, shall we?”

An hour later saw Jac sat against a barrel with an empty mug clasped in one hand, a vague smile on her face as she watched the revelries taking place before her; at some point the pirates had decided that talking was an activity reserved for sobriety and had started to dance instead. Lofty had passed on the instrument to an unusually tall and pale man, who was playing it well but looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and was instead dancing with the moustached man Jac had seen talking to Bernie earlier. They had their hands clasped and were spinning around each other, occasionally laughing as one of them stumbled or bumped into another person, and Jac’s mind wandered to the way Serena and Bernie had kissed each other the day before. The subject of men who lay with men was taboo back in England, and their actions were condemned as dirty and amoral. Here, it seemed they were free to love as they chose.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as Frieda stepped back into her line of sight and pressed a new drink into her hands. “Do you not want to dance?” The pirate asked. Jac pulled a face.

“I don’t dance,” she said, voice raised above the cheers of the dancers.

“That’s wise.”

Jac furrowed her brow as Frieda sat down next to her. “You haven’t had enough to drink,” she observed, words slurring slightly as she passed across the cup she had just been given.

“I have,” came the amused response. “I’m just handling it better than you are.” And with that, the dark haired woman tilted back her head and downed the drink in just a few seconds. Jac laughed, letting her head fall back as the cup was placed triumphantly on the deck.

“Who’s that man Lofty’s dancing with?” She asked after a moment.

“That’s Dominic. He’s one of the riggers. Why?”

She sighed, a rogue hiccup punctuating the exhalation. “No reason. It’s just… they look happy.”

Frieda turned to study her, a curious softness in her eyes. “Yes, they are.”

And Jac wasn’t sure how – whether it was the alcohol, or the highly charged atmosphere of the celebrations, or the years of emotional loneliness that came with sharing a sexual relationship with a man she had no real feelings for, or maybe a mixture of all three – but she found herself sitting up and facing the other woman, eyes drawn downwards to her mouth. The sounds of the party faded into a distant buzz as blood rushed in her ears. Her breath hitched as Frieda’s hand reached up to cup her face, thumb brushing idly against her cheekbone, and then they were surging forwards to meet each other in a heated kiss, teeth clashing at the urgency of the movement, and Jac’s fingers were pressing into the other woman’s back as the familiar warmth of arousal pooled in her abdomen.

Somewhere above them a voice called “Get a room!” and Frieda pulled back, her swollen lips parted and her round eyes half-lidded with desire. Jac trailed her hands down her arms, her fingers coming to close around the other woman’s wrists. By way of silent agreement, they stood together, and then Jac was tugging her impatiently in the direction of her cabin, the floor swinging beneath her until they made it through the door at the end of the deck and the darkness swallowed them both.


End file.
